


You Turn My Insides to Jelly

by deathishauntedbyhumans



Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Blood and Injury, Couch Cuddles, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Wordcount: 1.000-3.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-24
Updated: 2019-05-24
Packaged: 2020-03-14 15:14:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18950674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deathishauntedbyhumans/pseuds/deathishauntedbyhumans
Summary: After being injured while in the line of duty, Drake seeks Launchpad out for some help and comfort.





	You Turn My Insides to Jelly

**Author's Note:**

> Silly title is silly ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ 
> 
> I’ve been meaning to write this fic for three days now.

“Aye! Launchpad!” 

The sound of Scrooge’s harsh timbre broke through the giggles of both Launchpad and Dewey, who were alternating between throwing food across the table at one another and laughing hysterically when it inevitably splattered against the wall or floor. Dewey stopped laughing immediately and straightened up, his face drooping in the way it did when he was sure he was about to get into trouble. 

Launchpad rubbed the feathers at the back of his neck sheepishly, turning to the doorway. “Oh, uh, hey, Mister McDee. Sorry about the mess, we, uh… wanted to have a food fight?”

“That’s not a good explanation!” Dewey hissed at him, wincing. Launchpad shrugged at him helplessly. He couldn’t help being bad at lying under pressure! 

To Launchpad’s surprise, though, Scrooge didn’t look angry or annoyed. He actually looked... panicked, like the way he’d looked the last time the kids got into trouble and they all had to rush off to save them. Launchpad frowned. 

“Nevermind that right now,” Scrooge said, waving his hands impatiently. “Launchpad, you have a…  _ guest  _ awaiting you in the garage.”

“A guest?” Launchpad asked, only just picking up on the heavy-handedness of the statement. “Really? I don’t usually have guests, especially not ones who come here to look for me.” He gestured for Dewey to follow him. “C’mon, best buddy, let’s go—“

“No!” Scrooge’s eyes went wide. Both that and his raised voice both made Launchpad nervous. Mr. McDee didn’t usually act this strange unless there was a  _ reason.  _ “Dewey is going to stay here and clean up this mess. Aren’t you, Dewey?” The last was muttered pointedly through gritted teeth and directed at the young duck, who groaned immediately. 

“Awh, but Uncle Scrooge—“

“No buts.” Scrooge gave Launchpad a meaningful look that immediately flew over his head. Whatever Scrooge was trying to tell him without telling him, Launchpad was completely oblivious to. “Go on, Launchpad.” 

With a healthy amount of trepidation in his step, Launchpad made his way through McDuck Manor until he reached the entrance to the garage at the side of the house. 

For a moment, he was certain that Scrooge was playing some kind of prank on him, when he got the door open and stepped inside. There didn’t seem to be anyone there… 

Or— wait. 

A blanket lying on the couch, and a figure that was definitely lying underneath it caught Launchpad’s attention on his second cursory sweet through the garage, because the blanket looked like it was breathing, and blankets don’t breathe. 

Slowly, Launchpad approached the blanket, his steps as quiet as he could make them. He succeeded in keeping silent most of the way, too, until his foot knocked into an empty paint can and sent it skittering away. He winced. 

The figure beneath the blanket sat up suddenly and then let out a hiss of pain. The blanket fell to the side to reveal a face screwed up in pain, and Launchpad gasped. 

“DW?” He was immediately at Drake’s side, because it  _ was  _ Drake who had apparently taken it upon himself to make a visit to Launchpad’s place of work. Not that Launchpad minded. If anything, he was ecstatic! 

Or… he would’ve been, if Drake didn’t look like he had been injured. “What happened? Are you alright?”

Drake shifted a little, and Launchpad’s attention was drawn to his arms. One of Drake’s hands was gripping what looked to be one of Launchpad’s oil rags that was pressed against his other arm firmly. 

The rag was stained red, which made Launchpad’s heart stutter in its chest. None of his rags were supposed to be  _ red.  _ He always threw them out if he got blood on them, which meant that this one was  _ fresh.  _ Which  _ meant  _ that—

“You’re bleeding!” Launchpad blurted, stupidly, interrupting whatever Drake had been about to say. 

A huff of air puffed out of Drake’s beak in a semblance of a laugh. “Yeah. Yeah, I am,” he said resignedly. “Mind helpin’ me out a little, LP?” 

Launchpad was already scrambling past the couch to grab the first aid kit he’d started keeping in the garage after he sustained one too many injuries while working on the various vehicles of Mr. McDee’s that he had a habit of crashing. He stumbled a little after snatching it up, but ultimately made it back to the couch without incident. 

He forced himself to come to a full stop before sitting down, fearful of jostling Drake in the process of trying to help him. 

When Launchpad looked up at Drake after finally settling onto the couch beside him, it was to find Drake watching him with a warm —if exhausted— expression that immediately made his insides feel like mush.

_ Stay focused, Launchpad.  _

“What happened?” Launchpad repeated, opening the first aid kit. He pulled a bottle of antiseptic from the kit first, ignoring the fact that it was three-quarters of the way empty. 

“I wasn’t quick enough on my feet when a couple of Beagle Boys decided to try and get the jump on me,” Drake explained, wincing as Launchpad's hand replaced his own against the soiled cloth. Launchpad removed the cloth carefully to reveal a gash, not deep but  _ long,  _ running up the entire length of Drake’s arm. “It’s not so bad, except I figured out the hard way that moving it only makes it bleed more.”

Without warning, Drake slumped over a little, so that his forehead was resting against Launchpad’s broad chest. His arm was safely resting against one of Launchpad’s hands and stayed still, sluggishly bleeding; Launchpad felt his own eyes go impossibly wider in concern. 

“Woah, Drake, stay with me, buddy.” He put the antiseptic back roughly into the kit and used his now-free hand to tilt Drake’s head up. There was no Darkwing hat on his head, Launchpad noticed belatedly. Drake blinked blearily back at him. 

“‘m alright,” Drake murmured, as though the effort to make his voice any louder couldn’t be given. “Just need my partner to patch me up, yeah?”

Partners. Every time Drake referred to them as partners, with every harebrained adventure they went on together, Launchpad’s insides turned themselves into jelly. Never in a thousand years had Launchpad ever really believed he’d ever get to even be Darkwing Duck’s  _ sidekick,  _ much less his  _ partner _ in do-goodery. 

And Drake was so much… weirdly  _ nicer _ than Jim Starling had been, too. 

“I gotchu, DW.” If he hadn’t been intent on  _ being careful,  _ Launchpad would have saluted. Instead, he set to bandaging up the wounded skin as cleanly and quickly as possible. Antiseptic (one of Drake’s hands clutched desperately at Launchpad’s shirt as he hissed his way through the pain), gauze, bandages, medical tape. 

“There you go,” Launchpad said, brushing his hand gently over the newly-bandaged area. “You’ll be good as new in no time.”

This time, when Drake leaned into him, Launchpad didn’t hesitate to throw an arm around his back. With the cut no longer threatening to bleed Drake dry, Launchpad was more than willing to offer him whatever he needed, be that food or water or (apparently) physical affection. 

It wasn’t the first time they’d cuddled like this, and Launchpad doubted it would be the last. A lifetime of bullying and social isolation had left both of them touch-starved in the worst ways. It had been an early discovery that both of them seemed to crave touch, and since the first time that Launchpad had fainted on top of Drake and Drake had apparently  _ not minded,  _ they’d been cuddling when they were together so much that it had formed into a bit of a habit. 

Which was weird when they were Launchpad and Darkwing in public, apparently, but not so weird when they were Launchpad and Drake in private. 

“I can’t believe I fell for it,” Drake mumbled. His uninjured hand was still gently gripping the fabric of Launchpad’s shirt, and he was pressed tightly against Launchpad’s chest. “There were only two of them in front of me. Everyone knows they travel in threes. But I got cocky.”

“Hey, it’s alright.” Launchpad rubbed a hand down Drake’s back. “You made a mistake, Drake. It happens. I make mistakes all the time, and look at me!”

Drake let out a snort against Launchpad’s shirt. “I’m too tired to look at you.”

“That’s fair. But anyways, you just started being a real superhero a couple months ago. I don’t know a lot about a lot of stuff, but I do know that heroes make mistakes. Especially in the early seasons. Do remember in season one, when Darkwing Duck took on the Liquidator for the first time? He made a lot of mistakes, and the Liquidator got away, leaving Darkwing in a puddle on the ground. But what did Darkwing do?”

The answer was immediate, even if it was mumbled. “He got back up, and he followed the Liquidator back to his lair.”

Launchpad grinned. “Exactly! And then Darkwing defeated him!”

Drake gave a soft hum of assent before burying his face in against Launchpad’s chest. Launchpad absently reached up, trailing his hand through the feathers on top of Drake’s head. “I won’t tell anyone if you fall asleep.”

“You’re working,” Drake mumbled, barely comprehensible. Launchpad let out a quiet laugh. 

“I was having a food fight with Dewey,” he informed Drake, as deadpan as he ever got. “That can wait.” His voice softened. “You’re a lot more important.”

Drake didn’t respond verbally, and Launchpad could feel his body relaxing even further against him. Sleep was inevitable— and with Drake napping on top of him, Launchpad figured it was prime time to sneak a little snooze of his own. He reached carefully for the blanket that had fallen to the floor when Drake sat up and snatched it on his third attempt at grabbing it. Without wasting a second, Launchpad spread the blanket over the both of them. 

“You’re the best partner a hero could ever ask for,” Drake mumbled, the words slurred and so far towards unintelligible that Launchpad almost doubted he’d heard the right statement at all. Still, he smiled fondly down at Drake’s exhausted form before closing his own eyes.

Within minutes, they were both snoring soundly. 

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve never seen any of the original DW series ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ 
> 
> Kudos/comments are love! Come scream at me on tumblr @deathishauntedbyhumans.


End file.
